Help
by musichangover
Summary: He loved her, she loved him. Pyro loved Rogue, Marie loved John.Ryro.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**** Short, but the following chapters will be longer. Hope you like. Ideas in my head are currently scrambled, and I'm still finding my way through this story. I'll do my best.**

_**Help**_

He entered the bar. Empty. This meant a private meeting. He looked around, from booth to booth, seeking out the owner. The door to the storage room squeaked open, and out he came. He rested his eyes on Pyro, then indicated the chair behind the bar stall. Pyro followed, and took a seat. The owner took his place behind the stall, and took a rag, starting to wipe the beer glasses.

"You got a lotta enemies, kid," he said in a husky voice, taking a cold beer out of the fridge and slamming it on the table.

"I know," Pyro replied, taking the bottle in his hand. He drank.

"Well," started the owner, watching him, "the thing is, I can't keep lying for you. It's bad for business, y'see."

He got the signal. He lowered the bottle onto the table. A moment too long, and he was smacked against the ground. It wasn't as though he knew who they were. To him, they were just another group of people Magneto had promised something to. A promise that, ofcourse, had not been kept. It wasn't as though he'd seen old Mags in a while, anyway. The guy had disappeared after the battle. Everybody had disappeared after the battle.

Either way, he was now pinned to the ground, with some big guy over him, swearing and threatening him. It was over quick. They hit him a couple of times, which was something he was used to. It was practically something installed into his training. It trained him to be immune to jolts of small pain, like getting kicked in the ribs or against the head. Heck yeah, he still felt the pain, but it didn't matter so much. So, when the thugs left, and he stood up, he followed the bar owner's tired eyes to his waist. On the right side, there was a small pool of blood starting to form. Groaning, he took one look at the bar owner, a look of hate, and took of, limping from the small beating he'd just gotten.

It took a while as he walked around; jacket zipped up to hide his wound. It stung, yeah. It did hurt. But he knew it wasn't anything really important. They wouldn't have wanted him dead. They wanted him to feel pain. They wouldn't have hit anything that would've killed him. Or wouldn't have in the measure of a hairsbreadth.

Ofcourse, the silence didn't last long. He was all alone in the quiet of the night, at least as quiet as it could be in New York. Then came another shout. Ready to get hurt again, it was only when the person's voice registered into his head that he gave out a more pained groan. He didn't need this. He was too tired. Turning around to face his opponent, he got a punch against the face, and landed on the floor. Not ready to take _this_ person's shit, he stood up, and dusting himself off for a moment, got into a punch as well. But the guy didn't fall. It did make him wonder why, but in the next moment, he was tackled onto the ground, and being kicked. He only grunted in pain when he got kicked where his stab wound was. He grabbed the guy's leg on his next kick, and threw him aside. He jumped up, and in a flick of the wrist and a flick of the lighter cap, fire bursted out. Flames grew into a long thick flowing snake, which targeted the enemy. The enemy that, in that moment, had shot out his own flowing thick snake. A snake of ice.

Then came a girl's voice. Protest. She screamed out to Bobby Drake.

"Bobby!" Obviously, she didn't like the idea of the fight. But it was the voice that caught him off-guard. He knew it, but it wasn't who he thought it'd be.

Turning around for a moment, he saw Kitty Pride, a reproachful look on her face. When he turned back, he grabbed Drake's fist as it launched for his face, and twisted his arm behind his back, pushing him to the ground. They fought like fourth-graders, and it made him laugh inside. And outside.

He chuckled slightly. "Aw, come on, Drake, put a little more effort into it, will ya?"

Kitty spoke again. "John, let him go. No trouble."

He turned his attention to her, and cocked his head slightly to the side. "Really? And I thought you were the one who liked adventure."

"We don't have time to waste on people like you," she replied brutally.

"Nice to see you again too, Kitty," he replied sarcastically.

"Let him go, now, Pyro."

"Or what?"

He turned back, and, amazingly enough, was pushed aside. He stood up, checking his wound, and looked back up. He sent out a bomb of fire, just as a bomb of ice was heading at him. It hit him square in the chest, and he was thrown back a bit. He saw the result of his shot. Drake's jacket had caught fire, which he was now extinguishing. But him, his wound. His stab wound. It had gotten worse. It was bleeding through the jacket as well now. Cupping a hand over it, on which blood traced, he left the two and walked away into the shadows. He was closing in on his apartment, when he stopped and couldn't believe his eyes.

It was her. Marie D'Ancanto. Brown hair, white stripes, porcelain face. He looked at her. She must have felt him staring at her, because she looked at him.

"John?" she barely breathed.

He turned away, and walked back. How? How in the world could he get himself in this deep a trouble? And in one night? How? He walked faster, and turned around a lot of corners. Still, he heard her footsteps as she half-ran to catch up with him. He only stopped when he ran into the thugs that had stabbed him a moment ago. He cringed at the sight of them. This much trouble?!

They grabbed him by the shirt. "Haven't had enough, have ya, buddy?" one asked.

Then other laughed. Then as one held him against the wall, the other had turned in the direction he had just come from. "What's this now? Brought a friend?"

Pyro could see as he turned his head, that Rogue had started to take a couple of steps back. But in a flash, the guy that had spoke had ended up behind her. A moment later, and he had her by the hair infront of him.

"Girlfriend?" asked the guy who was holding him up against the wall. Without waiting for an answer, he dropped Pyro. "Poor girlie."

Pyro jumped and was about to deck the guy when he turned back, and grabbed him by the neck, swung him around, and threw him across the road. Meanwhile, Rogue had elbowed the guy who had her by the hair, and had dashed to the side, when he reappeared infront of her. Now, he was mad. He smacked her across the face, and she tripped to the side, landing on the floor.

"Show. Some. Respect." He said, kicking her per word.

He saw this. Pyro saw this. Like heck if he was gonna let this happen. He stood up instantly, and with a swift move, flicked his lighter open. They wouldn't hurt her. He wouldn't let them. But before the flames shot out, the guy who had kicked Rogue had burst in flames that just appeared. Pyro couldn't believe it. But he didn't even have time to. In a second, the flames that had begun, swung out a whiplash so hard, it hit him. It hurt. Hurt hard. But he didn't go flying backwards. Neither did the other guy. But the guy who hurt Rogue had burst into a huge flame ball. There was screaming. And it must've been what called the other two from earlier. He caught sight of Bobby and Kitty reappearing. The other guy, the one not on flames, ran at Pyro, swinging for his head. He ducked, and pushed him forward. Once again, in a swift moment, out came the lighter. Then, before the flames struck out, the flames engulfed him as well. This guy screamed along. And once more, whiplash. This one hurt Pyro bad. He grunted in pain, and collapsed, hitting the ground in one quick move.

One flamed guy had grabbed the other, and both disappeared. Rogue had crawled over to Pyro just then. She kneeled over him, and placed her hand gently on the side of his head.

"Johnny?"

**A/N:**** Enjoyed? COMMENT. =]**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Help**_

"Hey."

Those words. He woke up to them. Again, another distant voice from his past. And when the bright lights subsided, and his vision cleared, he saw the emptiness, intense brightness, and spotlessness that was the Academy's Infirmary. The sound, the words, they became clearer. Louder. No longer hushed. More like screamed. Or so it was in his head. He looked around, until he found colour drain out from the nothingness of the room. Grey hair, blue clothes. Storm. Beside her, or behind her, red shirt, angry gaze. Wolverine.

The two had their arms folded, and as one gazed at him concerned, the other gazed at him with rage.

"I should just end you right now, y'know," said Wolverine.

Storm snapped back at him, but she didn't sound mad. If anything, she was tired, yet calm. "Logan. We discussed this. Civil."

He shut up, and she talked.

"How're you feeling?"

He didn't know. Was it their distance from him? Were they afraid? Nah, no way in the world was the 'big-bad' Wolvie scared of him. Maybe they just hated him. If anything, he noticed that they surely kept their distance from the metal table on which he lay. Or atleast, Storm did. He sat up slowly, checking himself to see if he had lost any limbs and hadn't notice. He seemed to be in one piece. Pain just echoed through his head. And as she asked him her question once more, the sting in his brain echoed. He groaned, or whispered out what should've been a groan. And then she came closer.

She held his head up properly, and seemed to check for any concussions unnoticed earlier. He brushed her hands off lightly.

"How're you feeling, John?" she asked.

And just as she had snapped and Wolverine earlier, he snapped at her. But from him, it was an angry reply. "Pyro."

"Well, while you're within these walls, you are John Allerdyce."

He gave her a look. "Then I won't stay within these walls."

"You can't leave. You'd probably make it out of the gates, then drop onto the ground. You've been rendered defenseless, John. You're weak. You're hurt. You're liable for murder. We're the only people offering you help."

"I don't want your help."

"You don't want it. You _need_ it. Did you see what happened to you back then? You got attacked. Stabbed. I'm willing to bet that there are a lot of people out there who want to hurt you because of Magneto. And you're still a child, and therefore you're staying here."

"I am _not_ a child."

"Well, child or not, you are still as irresponsible as ever. Just as immature. If anything, you're more arrogant, more cocky, more egotistical, and more aggressive than before. That's what I don't get. Is power the only thing in your head? Or did Magneto put it there?"

He said quickly, "Magneto helped me more than this school ever did. Instead of restricting me from my powers, he's let me improve my skills."

"He's helped you become a bad person."

"Wasn't I always that?" he asked.

"No," she replied firmly. "No. You were John Allerdyce before. You had a chance to change, a chance, John. And after you left some people still believed you had that chance. Some people wanted to still give you a chance."

"Hm. Waste of chance."

"It's like your head has gotten harder," she commented, rolling her eyes.

"Look," he said shortly. "I'm not ungrateful for what you've done for me. Now, and before. But I've found my place. I've found my side. Thanks for the meds, and whatever you've probably jacked into me, but I'm outta here. I got stuff to do."

He stood up. Then, as soon as he felt the air come down as he stood up, he felt the lightheadedness soothe into his head, and swim around in a fast whirlpool. He felt increasingly dizzy, and as though he had no legs, and nothing to support him. He was about to crash down. His eyes, darted at the door, slipped down to the floor, and he sat back down immediately, sighing out a sarcastic, "Perfect." His eyes slammed shut, and he placed his hands infront of his face. Suddenly, all the tiredness, all the numbing pain and aching joints, along with the rushing headache, all of it collided at once. He could feel himself shaking slightly due to the rush. He felt…weak.

"See?" was the comment made by Storm. "You walk away, and you might as well be dead." She straightened up, and sighed slightly. "We're just trying to help."

He jerked his head into a nod. He wasn't happy about it, but it wasn't as though he had a choice.

"Okay, okay," Storm said, settling one conversation. She opened her mouth to say something, but Logan cut her off. It'd been the first he'd really spoken at all.

"How'd you burn those guys without using your lighter?" he asked. No. He demanded.

"What?" Pyro asked, making sure he sounded rude enough.

"Those two guys. Remember? Beat you up? Kicked Rogue a little bit?" Logan's eyes stared at him. Pyro knew the guy wanted to tear him limb from limb. But his thoughts weren't focused on that. Rogue…

Wolverine called him out once more. "How did you burn them without using your lighter? And from the inside?"

Pyro shook his head slowly. "I dunno."

"No lies, Sparky."

"I'm not lying," he replied through clenched teeth.

"John, you've got to know how. Are you trying to say that was your first time doing that?" Storm asked, in disbelief of the simplicity he was suggesting.

"Yeah," he replied just as simply. "It'd never happened before. It did kinda hurt. I mean, look at me." He raised his arms half-way to emphasize his point.

"I don't believe this jackass," Wolverine said under his breath, pacing around the room. Storm folded her arms.

"Why, then, did it?" she asked.

"'Ro! You believe the…you believe what he's saying?"

"Logan, I'm just giving him a…" she stopped. "A chance. He might be right. If he'd done that before, he wouldn't been in this shape."

"How do you know?"

"How do you not know?" she turned away from him, and turned to Pyro. "Well, can you think of what happened? Honestly?" she added, stressing on the 'honestly'.

"Why do you care so much?" Pyro replied, tired of the questioning.

"Cause it was scary," she said honestly. "You burned two guys from the inside, with no fire to control. Your powers dictate that you manipulate fire. A) you don't create it. And B) I doubt you can just transport it into another area. C) They burned from the inside."

"So? My powers could just be evolving."

"Evolution takes years, John. Even you know that. Something gave your powers some sort of boost. Caused a spark. Have you ever done that before?"

"It's not exactly a really bad thing, though, isn't it?" he asked her.

"You nearly killed yourself out there."

"I just got knocked out," he replied.

"For a week."

He paused there. "What?" he asked after a moment.

"You've been out for a week. You were on life support for three days." As he took it in, she added, "Your heart stopped slightly for 2 minutes."

"What?" he asked, quietly.

"So. Just tell me, do you know of any reason as to why it happened?"

"I dunno."

"I think you do."

"I don't. I don't know. Maybe I was angry. Maybe I was just having a bad day. I don't know."

"Nobody has a bad day then causes two people to burn from the insides of their body."

"How do you know?" he replied.

Then he stopped. He sighed. He looked away, and looked away from the conversation altogether. He noticed them leave him alone quietly. The sliding doors shut behind them, and he was alone. In his mind, his thoughts reeled around endlessly. It was somewhat scary. Had he really, _really_ nearly died? He remembered the pain when the whiplashes hit him. He remembered the pain from when he'd woken up a few minutes ago. He remembered the pain of seeing her. Her. Rogue. Rogue who'd been hurt as well. Hurt by those thugs. Those thugs that he burned up. Wow. He wondered if two plus two worked this way. Had he done that for her? Had his powers gone up so fast, and so hard, just for her? He'd seen her get hurt – wait. Hurt. She was hurt. Where was she?

**A/N****: To all those who commented: Thank you! I really appreciated your comments, and I hope you enjoy the chapters coming up. =]**

**And…to those who've read, or just started reading:**

**Hey! How was it? =]**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Help**_

Marie looked at herself in the mirror. Her white strands and brown hair came down, and curled up just below her shoulders, covering them. Her eyes, however, were just as red as they'd been every morning before she left her room, and every night after she'd entered it.

Red from crying. The tears had already stopped, and it took a lot of inner forcing to get them to. But their mark was still there. She sniffed slightly, and turned away from the mirror, dropping back onto her bed. She snatched a pillow immediately, squeezed it so hard that it looked like she was trying to squeeze it to death. Her silent tears, which hadn't been cried out, but held behind her drying eyes, suddenly burst out, and she was crying once more, face dug in behind the window, breath thick and heavy, but no shrieks. The quieter she tried to be, the more it hurt. Hurt her physically, and inside as well. The more she tried to stop, the worse they were.

It was him. It was all his fault. Him. He was her bestfriend, then she saw what was in his mind. Then, just as soon as she'd found out, he was gone. No goodbye. Nothing. Just a little cocky remark, which was signature Johnny. And now, who the heck was he? Pyro. He was 100% Pyro. She didn't get her chance to think about anything concerned with him, because, despite the feelings she saw, despite the friendship she thought they had, he'd ditched her in a moment for his chance at glory. It'd played over in her mind a thousand times. Even if things were different, she would've been willing to bet that he'd pick power over her. Then came the doubt. But, what if he was deeper than that? What if he cared, or could care, more than she saw. Or what if he didn't care anymore? What if he was just another cold-blooded killer, as she'd heard? She didn't know who he was anymore.

Early in the morning, just before she'd landed on her bed, she'd caught a sneak at her alarm clock, which read out 7:30 AM. Then, as abruptly as she'd crashed down, she was soon up again, and brushed her wet hair out of her face. Walking into the bathroom, she reappeared in a few minutes, looking normal. Not at all stressed. Not a single tear, no sense of obvious redness in her eyes and in her cheeks. She seemed…all right. It was 8:00AM now. Another 30 minutes spent on him. Not the first, and probably not the last. She found herself looking into her mirror again, trying to see who she was now. Why she was still here. Well, she knew why. Logan wouldn't let her leave. Especially after last week with the incident. He'd sent her to collect something, thinking she could handle just that one thing. He was swamped, so he sent her. Then, well, everything just followed.

Her door swung open suddenly, and Storm poked in for a moment. "Hey. I need some help. Up for it?"

"Uh, yeah," Marie replied, sounding a little choked. She cleared her throat. "I'll help."

"Well, John's woken up. He's in the Infirmary. Get him to his room, huh? His old stuff is in it. It's the extra room in the boys' dorm. Next to Bobby's."

"Uh, okay. I'll go now."

"Yeah, thanks. And, he's got a bag of stuff to use, basics like soap, toothpaste, etc. Get him something to eat, as well. He's gotta be hungry. He's a little tired. Worn out. He might need some help walking."

"I'll help him out."

Storm smiled, then, she raised her eyes, and smiled a little unsurely. "Okay. Small help done. Well, I need a little more help."

Marie gave her a questioning look.

"I need you to completely help him out. I can't think of anyone else, honestly, Rogue, so I really need you to do this. Bobby hates him, Peter doesn't really talk much, and Kitty's a little preoccupied. She's debugging a couple of computers some of the younger kids messed with. Logan might kill him, and I'm too busy. So, please?"

Marie stood, open mouthed. Then, sighed. "Yeah, I'll help him," she said, trying to sound bright and happy. "I'll take care of him."

"Thank you so much," Storm mouthed, leaving and shutting the door infront of her.

Marie sat down on her bed once more. "Just. Great," she said softly, taking a deep breath.

~-.-~-.-~-.-~

Pyro stared at the floor, thinking. His mind was too full of things that just gave him headaches. Rogue. The Academy. The aching pain in his body. The doors slid open, and he expected to hear Storm's heels hitting the tiles, or Logan's grunts of disgust and anger. Instead, he heard silence. He looked up, and his eyes widened slightly. It was Rogue. He looked at her closely. He felt tired, and, a rather warm feeling. Also, lightheadedness. This just wasn't right. He stood up slowly, and walked just as carefully to her, and checked her out more closely. His eyes looked down into hers. His darkened eyes, her pained ones.

His voice stuck in his throat, but he got it out, and said, "Are you hurt?"

"No. I'm. Yeah. I got hurt." She looked down, and her fingers, hands clapped together, fidgeted slightly.

"Bad?"

"Yeah. Bad."

"I'm sorry you did. I tried to stop them."

"Yeah, I saw."

"Oh, come on, Rogue. Talk to me."

She looked back up at him. "Talk?" she asked. Her voice went cold. "What, what do you want to talk about? How about…you leaving, huh? How about…you just leaving me to think about you?"

"You thought of me?" he asked, laughing off the idea.

"You know the deal, Johnny. When I touch people, they're in my head."

He looked down at her bare hands. "I guess it's not the deal anymore, then, huh?"

"You don't understand," she said, frustrated. She turned around.

"Yeah, I do," he replied, frustrated as well. "I understand. You couldn't be strong enough. You couldn't be happy with who you were. You couldn't help but hate the fact that you were special. Then again, I guess you still believed that you were cursed? You are really weak, Rogue. Really, really weak."

"And you're full of it!" she replied, turning back to him, and looking him in the eye. "You're so full of pride and your head is as hard as this marble counter-top. You think you're invincible. No. You believe you're invincible. You believe the crap Magneto feeds you, like 'you're a god amongst insects' or whatever. You think you're so great, and you're arrogant, and cocky, and rude, and you don't care about anything or anyone but yourself. Oh, wait, no, I'm wrong. You do care about something else. Your precious lighter, and your precious powers. You're selfish, and you're coldhearted, and you're Pyro. It's just you. You're like some loner. So to you you're all that matters. It's just you and nobody else. Nobody can get through to you."

"It's not like anyone tried!"

"I tried! I thought we were friends!"

"If you tried, if you even tried to understand me, you'd have gotten how I felt from the beginning. From day one. But you didn't! So why should I have stuck around?"

"So you left because of me?"

"Yeah."

"Sorry I held you up then," she said shortly. She turned around, and headed for the door. He stopped her by the arm, and turned her back to force him.

"Listen to me for a moment," he began.

"No, John. No. I don't need this. I don't need you to try and say something. Or anything. I don't need you in my mind. I don't need to know what I know. I didn't need to know how you felt. I didn't need to know your life. I didn't need to know the centimeters of length that you were from total…Pyro."

"Pyro's not such a bad thing," he replied defensively.

"But he's not John."

"And you're not Rogue. Not anymore, anyway."

A few centuries, though the watch said seconds, later, the awkwardness died down.

"Storm told me to show you to your room," Marie said. Pyro nodded quietly.

~-.-~-.-~-.-~

"Well, here you are…" she said, opening the door. She walked in, and he gingerly followed, shutting the door behind him. A suitcase lay on the only bed in the room – his. She unzipped it, and flipped it open. "Take your pick." On the side, there was another suitcase. He looked into the open one, and took out a navy blue shirt.

"I…these are mine." He held it up, then after a short examining, cast it aside.

"I know. They never got rid of them," Marie replied.

He pulled off his shirt, and held his old shirt in his hands. His back was turned to her, but she could see all the scars on his back. There were bruises too. It looked like he was some sort of punching bag that was frequently used. But it was more than that. She didn't get it. His bruises, his scars, the bandages placed on his deep wounds, the bandages that had little faded red stains on them. They told another side of the new him.

"Do they hurt?" she asked him quietly.

He turned to face her, and she saw more of these wounds. He walked closer, and her bare fingers traced upon his chest. She felt the bandages, the scars, and the bruises. His hand found hers, pulling her away from his scars, from his story.

"Y'know," he said, just as quietly as she had spoken earlier. His hand was still with hers, and he held her hand up slightly. "I'm not such a bad guy."

"I know, John."

"I'm not that selfish, or arrogant, or cocky. I'm not just that."

"I know, John," she said once more. He looked at her expression. She knew. She was sure he was more than that.

"I'm not coldhearted either. And I don't care about just myself."

"I know," she said, feeling her cheeks redden out of embarrassment.

"And. And you're not that weak. And I know I probably don't understand why you did what you did. Or for whom." She looked up at him at that moment, and he smiled a pained smile. "Tell me it wasn't for Bobby. Please."

"It wasn't. Why?"

"I can't help but hate to see you with a guy you shouldn't have ever been."

"Tell me, then. Who should I have been with?"

He leaned forward to kiss her, and she grabbed a muffin of a plate behind her on the desk, and shoved it lightly into his mouth. He caught a bite of the whole thing, and raised an eyebrow at her. She smiled, and he took the muffin out of his mouth, and swallowed the parts of it that he'd taken in. He placed it back on the plate, and turned to face her.

"Put on your shirt, will ya?" she asked him, still smiling.

"Hmm. I thought you were enjoying the show," he replied. The cockiness. Bless. He pulled the new shirt on, and as he had it on properly, she kissed him.

Ah. It felt so…new. It was warmth, and stuff he couldn't explain. It was just good. More good than he thought it could ever be. Heck, greater that he thought it could ever have been. It was even breathtaking. His heart was probably going a mile a moment. Then, a cold air ran up his spine. No, he wasn't feeling a pull of Rogue's powers. Rogue didn't have powers. Anymore. But all the same, he felt chills. He felt coldness. He felt lightheadedness, and weakness. His eyes widened. He backed away from her kiss, and backed into a cabinet, dropping to the ground. He could see her immediately drop down onto her knees beside him, and scream out for help. Then, everything went blurry once more. Everything went cloudy – his sight, his hearing. Breathing got harder. He would've gasped for air, but he was too weak to move his mouth. Then, as everything had gone from dark, to extreme bright, he went from extreme bright to dark.

**A/N****: How was that? **

**Oh. And also, I put this up early, cause I doubt I'll have the time to continue writing for the next few weeks. =[**

**I'm swamped in stuff. Exams and stuff.**

**But if I get the chance, I'll continue sooner.**

**Again, referring to my earlier question: how was that?**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Help**_

"Hey," Logan said, handing Marie a cup of coffee. She took it from him, and placed it on the kitchen counter softly. Her hands were still wrapped around the thing, and he could see that she was grasping it tightly. Tighter and tighter by the moment. "Let go, Marie," he said. Her hands shook slightly as she did. "What's wrong?" he asked.

She bit her upper lip slightly. "I hurt him."

He almost laughed. "What? No, you didn't. I know you're a paranoid girl, but this is too much." It was a joke.

Instead, she looked up at him seriously. Very seriously.

"Okay, okay," he said, sitting down across her. "Tell me what happened."

"I…touched him…and I saw his memories," she said, slowly, hesitantly. Her voice seemed to rise to a shrill panic. "I saw everything that happened last night. But I didn't know. It didn't feel like I was doing anything to him. Then he collapses just like they all did. I'm scared," she said, her voice now hushed. "I'm scared, Logan. What if…what if they're coming back? I can't take it. I don't want them back." She shook her head in dismay. "I can't hurt anyone anymore. One more and I'll lose it."

"All right, all right," Logan said. He got up, and put his hands on her shoulders, trying to calm her. "Look, we'll do some tests. Check what's going on with you, okay?" He stopped as she breathed heavily, trying to regain composure. "How did the two of you come in contact?" She didn't reply. He asked once more. "How did the two of you come in contact?" Pause. "You have to tell me, kid."

She folded her arms, leaning on the counter. One moment, and she replied.

"We kissed."

~-.-~-.-~-.-~

Again. It was like some cheap replay of events. First the bright, agonizing lights. Then the deafening, hushed up, cloudly sounds. The unbearably blurry vision. But now there was an echoing sound in his ears. Like a ding. A ding sound from a bell. It repeatedly in an ever slow pace. Yet each ding was a shriek that sent his ear drums bursting. Then, once more, in a quick rush, everything soothed out to normal. His hearing, his sight. And, as he turned his head to his right, he saw a machine. His heart rate was phenomenal. The pace it went at was incredibly fast.

"Hey, calm down," came a voice, as footsteps rushed to his side immediately. Storm hung over him. She looked panicked by his heart rate. "Oh, damn." She backed out of his view, and he slowly craned his neck to see where she was. He heard her call out for help. Call out for Doctor McCoy. And soon enough, another set of rushed footsteps came in.

"Grab that sedative," the doctor ordered to Storm.

Pyro found his voice. "What? What sedative?!"

His mind was thrashed within as his heart rate echoed mercilessly in his mind, louder than ever, and the speed on the machine sped up too.

"John, you need to calm down." Storm hovered above him again. "Please."

He didn't understand. But he felt the prick of the needle and the numbing pain as the meds entered his blood. In a moment, he blacked out. The noise had become silence.

~-.-~-.-~-.-~

Again. Why again? He asked himself. After the repeated actions of sight and hearing played their course, he stared once more at the ceiling, and this time, to his gratitude, there was no loud ding sound from any machine whatsoever. He took a slightly breath, inhaling, exhaling.

"Sorry about earlier," Storm said. He turned his head to his left, and saw her at the doorway. "You're heart rate was rising quick. We had to do something."

"Do you drug all your patients?" he asked coldly, attempting to get up. He sat up weakly, and stared her down for an answer.

"Nah," she replied. "You're special."

"What happened to me?" he asked, letting the anger flush away.

"We don't know. It could one of two possibilities. It could also be both." She walked away from under the doorway, and the doors slid behind her. "Either your little act before had an aftershock, rendering you as you were. Or. Well, you got the life sucked out of you, which in turn, triggered an aftershock of some sort."

"How the heck would I have had the life sucked outta me?" he replied, finding the second suggestion stupid. Instead of an answer, Storm looked at him, indicating that he, himself, knew the answer. "No way," he hushed out. "Marie couldn't have. She's human."

"She saw your memories…" Storm let out softly. "They are now permanent records in her mind."

"I didn't feel any pull whatsoever. Not like before at Boston."

"Neither did she feel a push of whatsoever. As you can see, there are a few glitches that need to be sorted out."

"She didn't hurt me."

"She did, John. Undeniably, she did." A pause, and she said quickly, "Not intentionally, ofcourse. Everything's a mere accident. But the tests prove that her mutation is acting up again. She's all right, by the way. Just shaken up."

"What'd she see?" he asked instantly. The endless run of his maniacs rolled before his eyes in a second. Marie could've seen anything.

"That's not exactly what shook her up," Storm said. She smiled slightly, and turned around, leaving. As the doors closed behind her, she added, "She'll be coming to see you though."

And Pyro was alone. To painfully recall.

~-.-~-.-~-.-~

" _Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he cursed over and over again as he sped away from the people following him. He raced into a park. It was night, ofcourse. It was always easier at night with no one to see you. Except the guards of the place you just rigged. He ran through the gates, and looped around a few paths, ending up safe. Safer._

"_It is a nice night for a walk, but I didn't think you were that kind of person." He turned around, panting for air, and groaned at the sight of the man in the wheelchair. Two months since he'd abandon them at Alkali Lake. Two months since he'd chosen a new allegiance, a new side. _

"_I'm not," he replied rudely. The Professor was looking at him seriously, but there was no hint of anger in his eyes. "I didn't know you liked taking walks," he added, making sure to sound even more rude. _

_The Professor merely chuckled. "I'm not. But I have reason to be here."_

"_A date, maybe?" Pyro asked, rolling his eyes as he turned around to glance if he was followed. When Pyro faced the Professor, he was looking at him with pity._

"_No. I came to talk to you."_

"_I'm honored," he said sarcastically. _

"_I do not just let students slide, John." Pyro cringed at the sound of that filthy name. The Professor noticed. "John is your name. It will always be your name. You can't run from who you are."_

"_Well, who was I?" Pyro asked savagely. He scoffed. "A student. Incapable of his true capability."_

"_Murder was not suppose to be your true capability."_

"_It was necessary."_

"_It was disgusting. You are a child. A child that knows nothing. You've made a choice that I know you will regret. That I pray you will regret. Remorse is the key to salvation."_

"_It's not like I'm begging to be saved. I'm happy where I am."_

"_And you weren't happy at the Academy?" The Professor paused. "I would've thought you were happy, every English class. Every lunchtime. Every free class."_

"_You read my mind!" Pyro said angrily. "I thought you were beyond that! You said so!"_

"_It was necessary," the Professor replied bitterly. "You were beginning to be lost, John. I had to get an insight on who you were to be able to try and save you. I saw who you are, and I know what you really are capable of. Something even you did not think you could do."_

"_What? Enlighten me."_

_Now the Professor smiled. "Love."_

_Pyro looked at him with hatred. "I don't love anything."_

"_It's true. You might not love. I think you do, but if you want to rephrase, then let's. You hunger. Definitely. You hunger for power. You hunger for respect. You hunger for freedom. You hunger for her, as well. I believe that hunger is love."_

"_I don't love anyone," Pyro said, his harsh voice trying to prove his statement._

"_Why do you always stare at her then? Why do you watch her intently, but not with lust? My boy, it's undeniable. You actually respect a human being. You shoudn't lie to yourself."_

"_And so what? What if I care for her?" In a lower voice, he added painfully, "she doesn't care for me."_

"_How do you know that?" the Professor's voice, too, had become quieter and calmer._

"_Because she loves Drake," Pyro replied bitterly. "She loves Drake and she doesn't even see me. She doesn't see me at all."_

"_Are you blaming her for leaving?" _

"_No. I – I don't." He regained his exposure. "I don't care for her."_

"_You do. You don't want her to get hurt. Ever. You want to be the one at her side, protecting her. I can see it, boy. And I don't even have to read your mind."_

_Pyro scoffed once more._

"_You'd be back in a moment if she called you."_

"_She doesn't want me."_

And Pyro looked around the Infirmary. His little trip to flashback city had ended and he was sitting in the remotely cold room, trying to stop his hands from shaking in anger. She didn't want him. Not even when they kissed. It was an abrupt moment. Not to be repeated. He would not be weakened by her. Not by her.

The doors slid open so smoothly, he barely heard her. He was still staring at the marble floor, or his eyes were. He, himself, had blacked out. He only came back when he heard her small, nervous voice.

"John?"

His head snapped upwards at her looming figure. Her hair shaded him from the lights. He regarded her with no expression. No room for her to get in.

"I'm…sorry," she said softly.

He didn't reply.

She continued, sensing his dislike of her presence. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"You didn't," he replied, letting his guard down for a moment. She looked so nervous around him. It didn't use to be that way. Was she scared?

"No, I did."

"No, you didn't," he argued. Standing up, he, in turn, loomed over her slightly. They were so close. Not good.

"I won't touch you again," she said, taking a few steps backwards. Her hands were gloved. Her clothes were thick and covered most of her body. Her hair was down, covering her neck. "Are you feeling all right?"

"Yeah, I'm good," he said quietly. She turned to go, but he jerked her backwards. He looked anywhere but at her, and said, "I'm. Not. Scared of you."

She didn't reply. Instead, he pushed her against the wall, and once again, his lips met hers. Hungrily, it was as though HE was trying to suck the life out of her. She, on the other hand, found herself surprised by the movement. Her knees felt like they would buckle and she would fall. She grasped him for support. Her arms around his neck, keeping her standing. Their lips still connected. His hands stood as boundaries to not let her escape. Instead of pushing back into the wall, which was useless, she pulled herself forward, pushing herself onto him as well. Soon, he was back lying on the table, her on top, lips still working at each other, temperatures getting high. He never thought she could kiss like this, and, in action, he lowered his hands to his pants, starting to unbuckle. Her hands move to her blouse, which was buttoned, and soon, she began to unbutton them. He suddenly realized were they were, and took his hands off his zipper, and placed them on her gloved ones. No pull, no problem. He backed off for a moment, and said in a panting voice, "Your room." She stopped unbuttoning her shirt, and they ran for her room.

Inside, he slammed the door shut with his back, her arms once more around his neck, pulling him harshly even closer to her mouth. Their lips worked together, even more roughly. More passionately. Now, he began to raise his shirt over his head. Her blouse was half unbuttoned, and while she pulled him down, he finished unbuttoning it. She discarded it across the room with his shirt, and he moved from her lips down to her neck. She groaned in pleasure, and he picked her up and placed her on her bed with a playful thud. She was smiling.

He moved on top this time, but she pushed him off lightly. "Wait," she gasped, running for her bathroom. He sat, shaking his head.

"What?" he asked. Then he realized what she was up to. Smart. Safe. A moment later, she opened the door, and stepped out, looking flushed.

He grinned at her. When she sat beside him, he took her, and kissed her deeply around her neck. Her hands traced down his chest, and pushed him flat on the bed, right next to her. She was giggling now.

"Marie, all this pushing is sending me the wrong message, y'know," he teased, leaning on the support of his arm as he faced her. She followed him in doing so.

"Well, all right then," she teased back, getting up and reaching for her blouse.

"I'm joking," he said quickly, in disbelief that she believed him.

"I know," she replied, smiling. He stood up and walked to her, pushing her back on the bed, towering over her. The whole heated scene repeated. Soon her pants were off, and he couldn't help but have an orgasm at the sight of her underwear. Half-see through. Black lace. Her hands were pulling his pants off.

"This is nice," he commented during those brief gaps when their lips moved apart as they gasped for air.

She groaned in agreement. Her hands were swimming down his pants, to his crotch. As she grabbed it lightly, he pulled her even harder.

Then the door swung open.

She pushed him back and rolled off the bed out of sight.

Logan was at the doorway, shaking his head at the sight of them.

"You," he said, pointing accusingly at Pyro. "Storm wants to see you." Pyro didn't move. "That means get out of Marie's room." Pyro couldn't help but grin as he headed for the door. Wolverine's arm blocked him from exit. "Put on your shirt first, will ya?" he said, annoyed and a little more than just ticked off. Pyro smiled arrogantly, and Logan wished he could smack the kid. "Get out," he said under his breath. Pyro glanced at him. Was that a threat? He left, and Wolverine turned to Marie, whose head was the only thing he could see. "Get dressed," he said shortly. Then he shut the door.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Help**_

Marie stumbled out of her room, hair still in a mess, and her clothes sloppily on. She was pulling up her shoes, and tried to smile for mercy at the sight of an angry Logan. He was never angry at her. It was not the best thing to admit to people, but everybody knew she was highly favored. His arms were crossed, and his eyes darted at her. He wasn't smiling.

"What the heck, kid?" he demanded stiffly.

Marie shrugged. "I know and I am so sorry," Marie said, trying to emphasize her understanding. She tried to look as meaningful as she could as well.

He wasn't buying it.

"That was the stupidest thing I've ever seen you do!" he yelled at her face. She cringed as he yelled, and opened her eyes warily once he had finished. "That was Pyro for –" Logan composed himself once more. Onlookers were beginning to rise in number. "Damn it, kid. I thought you were a thinker. That you had more brains than that."

"Nothing happened," Marie said in her defense.

"Only because I opened the door," Logan replied, in a low voice. "Both of you were all ready stripped to your underwear, and you were both on your bed…all…ugh," Logan added, starting to feel sick. "I'm just hoping you're right and nothing happened."

Marie cringed once more. "Nothing happened," she reassured him. "It was a freak accident."

Logan became stern once more. "Oh. So he…fell on your lips?"

"Yeah, I did. I was so lucky she was there to break my fall," drawled an arrogant voice. Pyro appeared at Logan's side, and winked at Marie, grinning. She turned the deepest shade of red. "And she's right. Nothing happened."

Marie cringed once more. "Nothing happened," she reassured Logan. "It was a freak accident."

"You're despicable, Pyro," came another voice, in a friendly tone. It was Kitty Pryde, carrying what looked like a CPU that had just gone through a car accident. She sighed as the three people she looked at stared at the heap in her hands. She looked down sadly. "Yep. More work for me." She looked back up at them. "What happened?" slipped out of her mouth, then she quickly shut it and smiled, shaking her head. "It's okay, I get it," she added clumsily. She almost chuckled. Then she caught Logan's eye, and darted off with the miserable heap of metal.

Logan turned back to Pyro and Marie. Marie's smile disappeared, but Pyro was still grinning. He almost laughed at the look Logan gave him.

"What?" he asked goofily. Marie cringed once more. Logan looked like he was about to kill Pyro. "Worried I'm turning your little goody-girl bad?" he asked, and Logan sighed.

"You're a jackass, you know?" he sighed at Pyro.

"Yeah, pretty much," Pyro said, giving a mocked sigh.

His shirt was grabbed by the collar, and Logan pushed him against the wall. Both men looked at each other with hate in their eyes. Logan's grip grew tighter as he spoke.

"Be careful about how you treat Rogue," he said angrily, through gritted teeth.

Pyro's hand shoved his off his collar. "She's not your daughter," he spat. "You don't have any right to tell me – or her – what to and not to do."

Logan grabbed his collar again, and pushed him harder against the wall. The claws of his right hand exerted from his flesh, and stared Pyro right in the eyes.

"That won't stop me from killing you."

"Bring it," Pyro hissed, smiling.

Marie placed a hand on Logan, and tried to push him off.

"Logan," she said quietly. "Let him go. Please?"

Logan looked at Pyro in deepest loathing. Pyro looked at Logan, challenging him.

"Logan!" Marie said louder.

"You don't control her," Pyro said angrily.

"But I won't let her fall into the hands of filth," Logan replied just as angry.

"It's her decision, and I think she likes me."

"John, stop!" Marie pleaded. Pyro and Logan ignored her.

"You're an asshole, and you should be dead."

"And yet I'm still standing here, right?"

"Let's give you ten more seconds and see if you're still gonna be standing." Logan started countdown, still gripping at Pyro. "Ten…Nine…Eight…"

"Finally learned to count, huh?" Pyro snapped.

A fist punch his head to the side.

"LOGAN!" Marie screamed shrilly, trying to pull him back. He shrugged her off, and took another swipe at Pyro. This one was ducked at, and when Pyro was ready to surface once again, Logan had retracted his arm, and his claws were about to stab into Pyro's neck. This time he was pushed aside. It wasn't Marie. It was Bobby Drake.

"He's not worth it," Bobby hissed quietly into Logan's ear, shoving him back.

His eyes were on Pyro, with just as much hatred in them. Pyro checked his face from any injuries, and felt Marie's gloved hand, try to help him out. He dropped his search, and took her hand away from his face, gripping it softly.

"You okay?" she whispered to Pyro.

"You're kidding, right?" came Bobby's indignant voice. He turned to Logan. "_That_ was what you were trying to kill him for?" He stepped aside. "Go ahead," he said plainly to Logan. Logan shook his head him. Bobby turned to Marie. "What happened to you?" he asked, staring at her messy form. It was very unlike her. He glanced at her hand, still interlocked with Pyro's. "This is so wrong," he commented. Then he walked away, shaking his head.

Once he was gone, Marie pulled her hand away. Logan was glaring at Pyro again. He was about to start once more, before she moved in between the both of them.

"No," she said firmly.

"Yes," Logan said, shoving her aside lightly. He grabbed Pyro by the back of his shirt, and dragged him unwillingly down the stairs. Students stared at Logan's free hand lunged and swung open the front door, and shove Pyro out. Pyro stumbled on the steps, and backed down, trying to stop himself from falling. Marie looked at Logan reproachfully, and grabbed the handle of the door before Logan could slam it shut.

"No, Logan. Storm said he'd die out there!" she said, trying to bring him to his senses.

"Better out there than at my hands!" Logan said loudly. He glared at the onlooking students, who quickly shuffled away. Pyro had come back forward, and grabbed Marie's free arm. He pulled her.

"Come on," he said calmly. Marie looked between Logan and Pyro. Then didn't resist as Pyro pulled her away and out of the gates weakly.

They were out, and walking down the street, when she looked at him. He stopped, and they sat on a bus bench. The bus came by soon, in the quiet ten minutes that passed, and the door slid open.

"Where's it heading?" Pyro asked the driver rudely.

The driver looked a little pissed off, then gave him the address of his next destination.

"Come on," Pyro said, taking Marie's hand once more. He dragged her off the bench and into the bus, dropping the payment into the driver's lap carelessly. He led her to the back, and they sat down. She looked at him. He looked back calmly. "What?"

"Nothing," Marie replied. He placed his arm around her in a lazy manner.

"You're freaking out, aren't you?"

A moment.

Then, "Yeah."

"It's okay. I got ya."

"Thanks, but that isn't helping."

"Don't worry. You're a big girl. You can take the city."

"Where are you planning to go, exactly?"

"Old apartment I owned by myself. It's nothing much, but it's enough."

It wasn't actually bad. The apartment was a one bedroom sorta one. It had a window in the tiny living room, which was near the tiny kitchen. There was no dining area, just stools by a counter, which was part of the kitchen. There were curtains, hiding them from the outside world. It wasn't in the best area, but it was good enough. Certainly good enough.

"There's a diner near by. I used to get food from there," Pyro added, dropping on the couch and taking a breath. He seemed to try to calm his thoughts. She sat down next to him, and his head slopped onto her shoulder. He breathed calmly, and said, "Why'd you come with me?"

She almost laughed. "Cause you dragged me."

"Seriously, Roguey."

"Because I was afraid you'd get hurt."

"Nah. But you're close. Keep thinking."

She thought for a while. "I don't know. I really didn't want you to be alone. You could've collapsed or something." She was beginning to feel comfortable to his touch.

"You care about me," he said decisively.

She laughed this time. "Wow. You really are a go-getter."

He looked up at her, and she saw a glint of weakness and tiredness in his eyes. "I just know what I want."


End file.
